A dark, stormy night
by brittanyandjasper
Summary: Entry for TwilightArchive's July challenge. The day that Marcus finds out that his beloved Didyme is dead.


Marcus could not help but note that it was the most beautiful day he had seen in countless, endless years.

He sat in a locked room in the tallest tower, gazing out the window to spot the luscious grass covering a meadow and to see the sunshine warm the earth cheerfully. Flowers poked their heads out of the rich dirt and a songbird called to him with its harmonious chirp.

Oh, how it mocked him.

The day was beautiful and full of joy, yet the thing he wanted most was the ability to cry. And not tears of joy, no, he wanted so desperately to be able to sob for hours and properly mourn the loss of the only creature he had ever given more than a moment's glance, the one who had captured his heart, the woman who had remained loyally by his side for the past millennia's.

Marcus put his head in his hands and sank onto the floor.

Only in the most classic of fairytales would the scene be right for this moment – it would open with the lines, "It was a dark and stormy night when the world ended." But, alas, real life never happened the way it is imagined.

Marcus let out a groan of despair.

Love, the most truely of all love, had been given to him, and he had been haughty enough to assume he deserved it. Why, he wondered, would an angel like her have to suffer what should have happened to a monster like me?

Marcus's tearless sobs shuddered to a stop and he raised his head, all emotion vanished from his face.

Of course, that was the reason she was gone – he had never fully understood what a blessing she was to him. And whatever Divine Being there was out there, call it what you will, had decided that he, in all his arrogance, should get what he deserved – nothing. Consequently, she was made to lose her existence because of him, it was entirely his fault.

Marcus descended the tower in a ghostly manner, earning looks of confusion from the lowly guard members.

His fault, his fault, his fault, his fault, his fault. Why are mantras so damn repetitive?

Marcus entered the chamber where his brothers sat in their thrones.

It was time, he reckoned, to get the one thing he longed for. The one thing that he knew would bring him straight into his love's strong arms. Didyme would always accept him, he knew. Just the thought of her made his emotionless mask slip for a moment, and the slightest smile, his last true one, lit his face. But then the previous hours came crashing down on him, and the smile was back where it would be stored, hidden forever behind his façade of apathy.

Aro seemed surprised to see him. He asked, "My dear brother, to what do I owe this pleasure of seeing you?"

Marcus opened his mouth to voice his request, but not a sound escaped. He closed his eyes for a moment. This was what he wanted, what he needed. His eyes reopened and he found a new courage.

"I wish to die."

There, it was out. His breathing stopped entirely, and there was complete silence as they absorbed his words.

Caius frowned and shook his head avidly, but it was Aro who answered Marcus's plead. He gave a small giggle. "Come now, Marcus; that is a wish that I shall not be appeasing."

Caius seemed to find the right words. "Didyme would not wish it."

Marcus sighed. His brain whirred with thought – what to do, what to do! The only way he could be happy, the only way he could even think of a single pleasing thought was to be gone, gone from this world of pain and suffering. He wished, he hoped so desperately for the chance to be reunited with the woman who caused him happiness.

Aro continued his talking. "No, no, you cannot ask such a thing of us. Dear brother, it's quite mad! You are a ruler of our world. You must, even in the face of tragedy, continue on in the hopes of something better, a light at the end of the tunnel…"

Marcus closed his eyes and his incredible strength left him as he dropped to his knees. A whisper, barely there, left him, "Please,"

His brothers took him by the arms and gently led him to his chamber. They comforted him with words, but as words, they held little value to him.

He was left alone, and when the night came, as he stared out the window with a fixed gaze, an ironic thought buzzed through his mind.

The night, at last, seemed to reflect his misery. It was a dark and stormy night. Such contrast from the day.

It suited him perfectly.


End file.
